


Bit by Bit

by placentalmammal



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Face-Sitting, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Sharing a Bed, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 02:26:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11613984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: Fero connects with Throndir after his sudden arrival in the Archives.





	Bit by Bit

**Author's Note:**

> Where is Kodiak? We Just Don't Know,

The archivists find a place for them: two adjoining rooms hidden away in dusty hall in a seldom-used wing. The woman who leads them there doesn't speak more than a few words, rigorously ignoring their presence until she reaches the appointed rooms. "Here," she says, and then she leaves.

The rooms are squarish and windowless, walls joining at odd angles. A moment's pause on the threshold, and Ephrim claims the larger room for himself, leaving Fero and Throndir to share the other.

There is only one bed.

Fero hesitates, but Throndir flops down on the mattress, kicks off his boots, and wriggles his toes in evident satisfaction. He sits up, catches Fero staring and rolls over, patting the now-empty space beside him. "C'mon," he says. "It's really comfy."

"I could sleep on the floor," Fero offers, approaching the bed slowly. Something strange is twisting in his gut, and his eyes keep darting back and forth between Throndir and the door.

The other man laughs. "I'm not enough of a jerk to kick you out of bed when there's room for two," he says. "I promise I won't try and spoon you in my sleep."

Gingerly, Fero sits down on the very edge of the bed. "This is dumb," he says. "I have my own house, like, super close. There's no reason we have to stay here."

"I don't think we have that option," says Throndir, softly. "I think there's probably a reason we don't have any windows."

"I hate this place," says Fero, and his shoulder throbs. His hand goes to it in an unconscious, self-soothing gesture, and Throndir watches him, dark eyes huge and luminous in the light of the oil lamps.

"It's alright," he says. He reaches out, as if to a wild animal, and puts his hand on Fero's knee. "I don't think they're going to hurt us. Uklan is on our side, at least."

Fero rounds on him, face contorted with rage. "They _already_ hurt me," he says, half-shouting. "Not that anybody _cares_." He's so angry he's shaking, and he realizes belatedly that he's crying.

Throndir is staring at him, thunderstruck. "Hey," he says, "Hey, I'm sorry, I--"

He reaches out again, but Fero moves faster: one moment he's perched on the edge of the bed, the next he's thrown himself into Throndir's lap, face pressed up against the other man's chest as he cries. Throndir's arms go around him and he makes vague, soothing sounds, hands coming up to stroke Fero's hair.

"I'm sorry," he says again, sounding genuinely contrite. "I didn't know."

"I thought they were going to kill me," says Fero, his voice small. "They hurt me, and they were going to kill me, and Lem didn't even _care_ \--"

Throndir says nothing, but his arms tighten around Fero. He smells like cedar and damp fur, and it's not entirely unpleasant. Fero presses closer, hands flat against Throndir's chest.

"If I were there," he says, "I wouldn't've let them. That's not--that's not what friends do. That's not what _I_ do." His voice is a cold, thin line and Fero realizes with a lurch that he is angry on _his_ behalf, just as furious with Lem and Ephrim and the archivists as he is.

He pulls back slightly. Throndir's color is high and his eyes are gleaming, preternaturally bright in the dim room. A strangeness has come over his features, something alien that is somehow more alluring than frightening, and Fero allows himself to be drawn in.

And maybe it's a mistake, but when he tips his head up and kisses the corner of Throndir's mouth, Throndir makes a surprised noise and kisses back harder. There's teeth and tongue and it's almost too much, and then Fero is on his back and Throndir is on top of him, panting, pupils blown wide. His hands are on Fero's belly, fingers hooked underneath the hem of his shirt.

"Can I?" he breathes, and Fero can only nod.

Throndir wastes no time in undressing him. He is hasty but not irreverent, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Fero's chest and throat as he tugs at his underthings. "C'mon," he says, more to himself than to Fero. "I wanna see you."

Fero groans and lifts his hips, helping Throndir remove his trousers and smalls. He's absolutely drenched, arousal running down his thighs, and he shudders at the hunger in Throndir's eyes. Nobody has _ever_ looked at him like that, nobody has ever looked at him and _wanted_ , nobody--

He can't finish the thought because Throndir is kissing him again. Fero groans against his mouth and pulls him closer, hands twisting in his shirt. And he's so big, so much bigger than Fero, not as big as Lem would be, but--

Fero whimpers, and Throndir draws back, slightly. "We can stop," he whispers. "I won't be mad."

"No," says Fero, swallowing. "No, don't stop, I need--"

Throndir's mouth is on him again, and Fero groans. “Where do you want me?” he murmurs, breath ghosting across Fero’s throat. The heat of it is incredible, and Fero shudders, clutching ineffectually at the larger man. Throndir is still fully clothed, but when he bends to kiss Fero, he can feel his erection through his trousers. And Fero hasn’t even _touched_ him yet, but he’s already aroused, already aching for him. _He wants me_ , Fero thinks, head spinning. _He_ wants _me. He wants_ me.

He groans, shoving at the other man’s chest. “Take your shirt off,” he says, and he doesn’t _mean_ to sound so demanding, but Throndir is into it. He sits up and Fero groans at the loss of him, but then he’s peeling his shirt off and Fero can only _watch_ , transfixed. He is _so_ good-looking, soft fat over trim muscle, brown skin covered in dark, wiry hair. Fero looks up at him and wants to kiss every part of him, to lick his way down the other man’s round belly and suck his cock until he cries.

Throndir is smiling sheepishly. “Hi,” he says, as he lets his shirt slip from between his fingers. “You’re staring.”

Fero swallows. “You look good,” he says. “Uh, you look _really_ good.”

His grin widens and his flush is visible even on his brown skin. His cheeks go pink and then his whole _body_ goes pink, flush creeping down across his throat and spreading across his chest. “Yeah?” he says, and Fero makes an impatient sound.

“Pants,” he says. “Pants next.”

Throndir tries to make a show of it, but he fumbles and knocks his head against the bedframe. It’s very sweet, but not sexy, and Fero doesn’t bother to hide his laughter as he pulls Throndir down on top of him. He’s straddling Fero’s hips, hands braced on either side of his head, cock hanging down between his legs. It’s flushed and full, and Fero’s mouth goes dry.

“You’re huge,” he gasps, and Throndir laughs, a little self-consciously.

Fero shakes his head. “No, I’m serious. I don’t think--I don’t think you’ll _fit_.”

Throndir bends his head and kisses him, slow and searing. “We can do other stuff,” he says, “whatever you want.”

Fero squirms against him, biting his lips as he thinks. “I want--I want to _feel_ you,” he says slowly, “just not in me. And I wanna be on top.”

Throndir grins. “I can do that,” he says, “ _fuck_ , I can _do_ that.” He wraps his arms around Fero and rolls so he’s on bottom, Fero straddling him. His cock lays flat against his belly, an invitation. Fero takes a deep breath and arranges himself over it, grinding down against it without slipping down onto it. The head of it is flush against his clit, and he can’t suppress a groan.

The larger man gasps and jerks underneath him, hands coming up to rest on Fero’s hips. “God,” he says as Fero begins to rock back and forth, his movements slow and uncertain. “ _God._ ”

Fero bites his lips, hands braced on Throndir’s chest for balance. It takes him a moment to find his rhythm, but then he begins to move, _really_ move and Throndir’s fingers tighten on his hips. He’s going leave marks if he isn’t careful and _damn_ if the thought doesn’t appeal--

He groans. He’s so wet, he can feel his arousal slicking across his thighs and Throndir’s belly, smearing across the head of his cock as it slides over his clit. The indirect stimulation is _maddening_ , but he needs both hands for balance. Panting, he leans forward, canting his hips down, trying to get more friction. And Throndir is moving against him, gasping and moaning. His chest rises and falls erratically and he’s babbling. “You feel so good, Fero, _Fero_ , please--”

His desperation sparks something in Fero. He keens, grinding down against the other man, ragged fingernails digging into his flesh. Throndir groans, from pain or pleasure, Fero can’t tell. He’s trembling, and when he speaks, his voice is thin and high and needy.

“I’m gonna come,” he warns, “ _Fuck_ , I’m gonna--”

His cock twitches, and Fero feels a sudden rush of moisture between his legs. He pulls back to watch Throndir come, to watch the convulsive movements of his throat and cock as he hits his peak. His cock is flushed and shining with Fero’s juices, and it twitches against his belly as he comes, spattering his rosy skin with semen.

He comes down slow, breathing hard, and then looks up at Fero through half-lidded eyes. “C’mere,” he says, wetting his lips. “Lemme take care of you.” He tugs at Fero’s hands until he’s positioned over Throndir’s mouth, wet and aching. He lowers himself gingerly and then Throndir’s tongue is pressed up against him, laving over his clit in short, broad strokes. Fero gasps and jerks, hips moving of their own accord. He grinds down against the other man’s mouth, arms braced against the wall for support.

Fero rides Throndir’s mouth, head thrown back, curses spilling from his lips. Throndir’s hands--his fucking _hands_ \--are on his waist, gripping his hips, offering leverage and support. And he’s _definitely_ going to leave marks, twin constellations of bruises where his fingertips are digging into Fero’s flesh. _I’ll be wearing his marks for days_ , he thinks dizzily, and he whimpers as Throndir licks him, his tongue delving into his folds.

“Fuck,” he pants, “that’s--”

  
Before he can finish the thought, Throndir’s mouth finds its way back to Fero’s clit and he begins to suck, nose bumping up against his mound. Fero’s words end in a whimper--his thighs are shaking, his heart is pounding, he can’t catch his breath--and then he’s coming against the other man’s tongue, moaning as he clenches and shakes. He grinds down against Throndir’s mouth, smearing his slick across his face and jaw. He sits back and Throndir is breathing hard, chest heaving. The look he gives Fero is sultry, all heat and no fire.

Fero bends his head and kisses him, slow and lingering, savoring the taste of himself on the other man’s tongue. When he pulls back, Throndir’s breathing has calmed. He wraps his arms around Fero ad pulls him down beside him, pulling the blankets up to their chins.

“Thanks,” he says, and his hand lingers on Fero’s hip. “I’ve been wanting--” he begins, and he clamps his mouth shut, eyes wide.

Fero’s breath catches. “Been wanting what?” he says, and he doesn’t even try to keep his tone even.

After a moment’s hesitation, Throndir sighs. “You,” he admits. “For a while, now. Since Rosemerrow, at least.”

“What about me, specifically?” says Fero, inching closer. “Tell me.”

Throndir swallows. “The things you do,” he says. “You don’t worry about whether something’s the right thing to do, you just _do_ it. You’re not stuck in the past or stuck in your own head like everyone else.” He’s quiet for a moment. “And you’re _really_ good-looking, but you already know that.”

“I could stand to hear a little more.”

The other man laughs softly. “Tomorrow,” he promises. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

“Good, because I wanna hear it.” Fero rests his head on Throndir’s chest. He’s wonderfully soft and warm underneath him, and he can hear his heartbeat. He swallows.

It’s nice.


End file.
